


Barred

by vaenire



Series: spiritassassin prompts [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Prison, prison fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 06:21:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10713951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaenire/pseuds/vaenire
Summary: It wasn’t that Baze was stupid. He knew that being pulled over meant being found and arrested. He knew that he had a warrant or two from his escapades the past few years. If he’d had contact with his hookups in the city that he’d had before he left, he would’ve been able to avoid this all.But that was before, and this was now.--a different take on their reunionfor the tumblr prompt "meet in jail au"





	1. Chapter 1

Baze hadn’t been back in his city for years. It had been good to be back for all of two days before he was pulled over, and a warrant came up on the cop’s preliminary search.

Unfortunate.

His third day back in town, and he was sat in the prison cafeteria eating the grool they called lunch.

It wasn’t that Baze was stupid. He knew that being pulled over meant being found and arrested. He knew that he had a warrant or two from his escapades the past few years. If he’d had contact with his hookups in the city that he’d had before he left, he would’ve been able to avoid this all.

But that was before, and this was now.

Baze ate quickly, head down when people passed by him, but diligently observed his surroundings. Across the cafeteria he could clearly parse out which fellow inmates postured well and who was in charge.

Truthfully, this wasn’t his first time around in prison.

Last time, he’d had someone waiting for him. Baze flexed his hand and curled it into a fist. He hadn’t called anyone because he didn’t have anyone  _ to  _ call. No one who would want to hear from him.

His nails punched into his palm. Last time, Chirrut had come to visit him every week. Without fail. Always bringing news of the neighborhood kids and how the temple was doing. Baze put down his spoon, suddenly losing his appetite. 

Baze left the city not long after getting out last time. He had just settled into life with Chirrut, remembering how to live with his quirks and eccentricities again, when an old friend came calling on him with a job. Chirrut had been livid. Rightfully so.

At the next table over, Baze heard voices being raised. A fight. He kept his eyes focused on the grool in front of him; he wasn’t about to get into trouble on his first day.

Only a moment later, Baze heard the  _ shmack _ of skin on skin contact, and someone hit the edge of the table. Baze glanced up and saw the man wiping his nose as he bounced back up toward his assailant.

Baze heard the guards shouting, threatening the men to stop fighting. One of the men picked up a food tray.

“Boys, let’s settle down,” a third man said, getting between them. Baze’s head snapped up to stare at him incredulously.

“Out of the way, old man.” The man with the tray shoved against Chirrut’s shoulder, but was taken aback when Chirrut didn’t budge.

“Put the tray down.”

“Fuck you!” The man took a swing with the tray, but Chirrut easily dodged, letting the man sprawl over him and grabbing him by the back of his collar and swinging him against the lip of the table.

Baze tensed. That man probably had friends. Friends who were standing from their seats at other tables around the cafeteria.

The other man stood again and squared up, but Chirrut did not turn toward him. “Sit back down, please. You’ve hit your head quite hard, I can tell.” The guards continued shouting. Baze could hear a flock of armored officers coming from down the hall, door buzzers going off.

Baze fought the urge to stand and join Chirrut as he watched other inmates stand, edging closer to Chirrut and the other man. Baze watched as the man, blood down his head from where he collided with the table and the first man’s fist, lunged at Chirrut.

At the same time, several men from the crowd jumped into the struggle. Baze winced when he saw Chirrut’s head snap to one side. He grabbed one of the men and punched him squarely in the chest and dropped him to the ground, deflated. He swung his arm around with an open palm, fingers curled, and grabbed another one by his hair.

Armored police flooded into the cafeteria, pulling the men apart before they could even really get started.

“Ask any of them,  _ I  _ was trying to stop the fight. It was self-defense!” he could hear Chirrut shouting. “I’m blind!”

The officers escorted several of the men out of the cafeteria, no doubt to file them for disciplinary action. Baze looked down at his grool again, secretly hoping Chirrut wouldn’t get too much flack. He did have a way of getting around the rules, if he was anything like Baze remembered.

“Next time, stay out of it,” Baze heard an officer say sternly. The other men who jumped into the fray were escorted out, and the doors were secured behind the officers once again. Chirrut, however, was left. He felt for a table, any table, and happened to find Baze’s. He sat down opposite of Baze, his back to him and wiped his bloody nose.

Chirrut stretched his neck and shoulders out, wiping more blood from his cheek and nose again, before swinging his legs over the bench and facing Baze suddenly, catching him off guard. He grinned his toothy grin, chin on his hand.

“Didn’t realize you were back in town.”

Baze choked.


	2. Chapter 2

Baze was quite surprised when he returned to his cell to find that his cellmate had been reassigned. He climbed up to the top bunk to recline. He must have been transferred somewhere. His replacement would be here soon.

Sure enough not fifteen minutes later, his cell door was sliding open and a new body entered his space.

He glanced down at him disdainfully as the door slammed behind him.

Standing just inside the door of the cell was Chirrut, his right hand reaching out to find the wall. “How did you manage to get transferred here?”

“Not everything is some grand scheme, Malbus,” he said, feeling his way along the wall.

“Bunk’s on your left,” Baze mumbled, scooting to the foot of the bunk to climb down the ladder. Chirrut reached out and found the post of the bunk. Baze stood in front of him, close enough that he knew Chirrut could sense him in his space.

“Why are you in here, anyway?” Baze asked, tone demanding.

Chirrut tilted his head and smiled. “Why are you?”

Baze raised his eyes, incredulous. It wasn’t a great mystery how someone like Baze would end up here. “A warrant came up when I was pulled over.”

“A warrant for what?” Chirrut pressed. He knew full well how irritating this was to Baze. Baze grunted instead of answering.

“I hope you didn’t do anything illegal trying to get in here with me,” Chirrut said cheekily.

Baze guffawed at the idea. “You’re why I  _ left _ .”

Despite his vocal bravado, Baze did nothing to stop Chirrut’s hand as he reached out, resting it on the side of Baze’s neck. His shoulders relaxed minutely without his consent at the tender touch.

“Am I why you came back, though?” Chirrut asked. His voice was still teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something else. It snapped Baze out of his momentary trance, and he knocked Chirrut’s hand away.

“You can have the bottom bunk,” he said coldly, climbing back onto his own.

-

Baze forced himself to ignore the sounds of Chirrut’s movements below him. He ignored the lingering feeling of Chirrut’s hand on his neck, strangely intimate even after all these years and their tense argument the last time they’d been face to face.

Lights out was announced and the blaring hall lamps were extinguished before long. Baze pushed away thoughts of how little Chirrut used to sleep, how he would sit up with a braille book and read for hours after Baze retired for the night.

Ten minutes or so into lights out, Baze heard the telltale creak of Chirrut’s bed springs as he sat up, but he didn’t hear him stand. He listened intently for any other movement.

Minutes passed and he couldn’t help himself from rolling to the side of his bunk to glance down at him.

“Are you praying? Really?” he asked, squinting down at the criss-crossed figure of Chirrut at the edge of the bunk below him.

“Sh,” Chirrut said sharply. Baze rolled his eyes and laid back again. Now that Baze knew what he was doing, Chirrut’s slow, even breathing was more apparent.

It was simultaneously annoying and extremely… calming to hear. His slow, disciplined inhale and calm, deep exhale filled Baze’s ears, and he couldn’t help from matching it with his own breath.

Baze’s fingers curled into fists as he remembered meditating with Chirrut many years ago, how they would hold hands over their knees, which were pressed together as they sat across from each other on the ground in their little apartment on the outskirts of town.

He yearned for the memory.

He cringed as he remembered why it did work out between them. It was Baze’s fault, after all.

Almost without his realizing, Baze was climbing down onto the ground once again, and kneeling in front of Chirrut without a conscious thought.

“Baze?” Chirrut said, confused.

Baze was silent for a long moment. What does he say now?

“I’m… sorry.” In the faint light from the hall, Baze could see Chirrut’s brows knit together. “I want to go clean when I get out.” It felt like someone else was talking for him, but the words felt right.

“Oh?” Chirrut said. Baze could tell he wasn’t going to go easy on Baze. “What do you mean?”

“I—I’ll go legit. I don’t need to go back to what I’ve been doing.”

“How?”

Baze paused. He had no idea how he would manage it, with his record the way it was. “I’ll figure it out. I can get a job somewhere.”

“Why?” Chirrut reached out a tentative hand again, and cupped Baze’s cheek. Baze choked on his tongue.

“I miss you.” He couldn’t help himself from leaning into Chirrut’s touch, searching for more.

Chirrut sensed this, bringing his other hand to Baze’s other cheek. Chirrut leaned down and kissed Baze’s nose gently, to Baze’s consternation. Chirrut should be angrier.

“I’ve missed you too,” he says, inches from Baze’s face. “I don’t care about all of that anymore.” He pressed a long kiss to Baze’s forehead, and something inside Baze snapped—not violently, but like a branch slowly pulled away from its tree, splintering until it finally gave way. He sighed.

“Sh,” Chirrut shushed him once more. He beckoned Baze closer, Baze bracing his weight on Chirrut’s knees. Baze surges up to shush him in return, planting an inelegant kiss to Chirrut’s mouth. Chirrut’s hands moved to the back of Baze’s head, the curve of his skull and the back of his neck.

It only took a moment for Chirrut to fall back onto his bed, legs uncrossing as Baze followed him, the kiss growing more passionate.

Baze tugged at the bottom of Chirrut’s white undershirt, desperate to get even more skin on skin contact. They pulled apart enough for Baze to pull it clear of his head, throwing it to the ground before pulling off his own shirt.

Chirrut’s hands glided from the back of his head to high on either side of his neck, his thumbs teasing at Baze’s earlobes, causing Baze to scowl. “Just as eager as you always have been,” Chirrut tutted, scrunching his nose and grinning at Baze.

Baze’s scoffed at him—as if Chirrut wasn’t just as receptive as he was—before Chirrut’s smile softened.

“I want…” Chirrut started, cutting himself off. He took a deep breath, his expression reflecting the yearning that Baze felt. “Can you just… hold me?”

The vulnerability in his voice set Baze off kilter. He was nodding,  _ Yes _ , and readjusting them on the narrow, creaky bed, and pulling Chirrut against his side. He held Chirrut tight, feeling the years of separation melting away.

Baze sighed, content for the first time in years, even if might only be for the night.


End file.
